Twenty-Seven
Alex
Blaine wasn’t kidding when he said Christmas with his family was chaotic.
His parents and Elliot arrived Christmas morning at nine, armed with a mountain of gifts and singing Christmas carols at the top of their lungs—badly. Jacob and I helped his mom with the food while Blaine, his dad, Elliot, and Zach watched the football game.
It turned out Zach’s best friend, Carter, was the defensive end for Denver, and the big guy sat there anxiously chewing on his nails whenever the defense was on the field. By the end of the game, his hair was sticking up all over the place from the number of times he’d run his fingers through it.
Blaine had absolutely spoiled us with gifts, my favorite being a beluga whale experience at Shedd Aquarium, but the biggest surprise was the photo Blaine insisted on doing.
As he didn’t want to be in the photo, Jacob did the honors, and we all stood in front of the perfectly decorated Christmas tree, his parents standing to Blaine's right while he wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and Elliot and Zach were next to me.
He posted it on his Instagram with the caption:
Happy Holidays! I had an amazing day with my loved ones. Hope you all had a great day, see you on the ice!
He also included a silly outtake Jacob had taken where his dad was dipping his mom like in a ballroom.
Blaine must have said something funny because I was laughing and he was wearing the biggest smile, while Elliot jumped on Zach’s back, his hand to his forehead like he was looking in the distance, and Zach stuck his tongue out.
The most special thing in that photo was the way Blaine was focused only on me as he held my hip protectively. His smile was soft, and his eyes sparkled with love.
I find myself staring at the photo on several occasions throughout the day, still unable to believe this beautiful man wants to be with me.
It had been such a nice day, and the first time we’d celebrated the holidays since my grandparents passed.
But now the festive cheer was coming to an end, and so was the high I’ve been on as my phone vibrates.
“I've just received another one,” I sigh, tossing my phone down on the counter.
“What? Another message?” Jacob asks from the other side of the kitchen.
I nod and read out one of the many Instagram DMs I have received since Blaine tagged me in the photo. “This one says, ‘Do you realize he’s only with you because you're shiny and new? He will soon get bored.’”
Jacob scowls. “What the hell is wrong with some people?”
I click on the profile and the bio reads Caitlin, Chicago Thunder #80. CEO of the Blaine Olsen Fan Club with a bunny emoji. The photo shows the back of a red-haired girl wearing a B. OLSEN jersey.
“They’re apparently fans.”
“That's no excuse; Blaine's personal life is none of their business.”
Another defeated sigh escapes me as I block yet another account.
I know he’s right. Do they think they can pretty much bully me into breaking up with him or something? It’s borderline harassment.
“Have you told him?”
I shake my head. “He’s about to go on a road trip, and won’t be back until late on New Year’s Eve. I don’t want to risk ruining his game.”
My brother frowns. “He needs to know, Alex.”
“I know, and I’ll tell him at some point, but it’s not something I wanna mention when he’s about to go on the road.”
Plus, maybe it’s naive of me, but I’m hoping the messages are just a fluke, and these people will soon get bored when they realize they’re not getting a rise out of me. I don’t want to worry Blaine for nothing. They must know how pathetic they look sending abusive messages to a player's other half.
Jacob gives me a pointed look, letting me know he’s not buying it, but thankfully drops it.
We have a busy day ahead with custom orders for birthdays, a wedding, and several new year’s parties, and the moment we open the bakery, it’s non-stop.
People line the streets to get their hands on our Christmas-themed menu before it disappears in a few days, and when my best friend walks through the door, I’m overcome with joy.
“Ho, ho, hoes, baby!” He grins, holding his arms out wide.
I walk around the counter and wrap my arms around him in a tight hug.
“How was your Christmas?” I ask.
“Good, me and my sister didn’t kill each other, and my mom didn’t burn down the kitchen, so I’d say it was a success.”
I chuckle at his unabashed grin.
When we were in college, Nate would return to campus after the holidays with so many stories.
Most of them involved his mom setting something on fire, whether it was food or a dish towel, and it didn’t help that Nate and his sister Sophie had quite a rocky relationship.
He once returned home with a black eye after she’d thrown something at him in a fit of rage.
“But how was your Christmas with the Olsen clan?” Nate rests his forearms on the counter. “I saw the photo he posted.” He wiggles his brows.
“It was really nice. His parents are great, they made us feel welcome”.
“And Blaine?”
I tuck my chin to my chest, trying to hide my flushed cheeks as I remember his admission on Christmas Eve: You should get two minutes for tripping, ‘cause I’ve fallen for you.
My heart swelled to triple its size in my chest. It was cheesy as hell, but it took me back to all those cheesy pick-up lines he used on me when we first met.
So now every time I close my eyes, I’m reminded of his face.
The way his eyes crinkled at the side; his smile so wide from joy, I would be surprised if his cheeks didn’t ache.
“What?” Nate asks with a bright smile. “Tell me what just made you smile like that, ‘cause I like it. I fully support whatever it is.”
I chew on the inside of my lip, my stomach twitching with nerves. “He told me he’s fallen for me.”
My best friend’s face lights up.
“Shut the fuck up, are you serious?” He wraps his arms around me again in a tight hug, lifting me off my feet. “I’m so fucking happy for you.”
I thank him, suddenly feeling shy.
“So, are you two official now?”
“I don’t know, we haven’t said the words or put a label on it, but I'm not seeing anyone else, and I don't think he is either…” My words drift off.
Is putting a label on it important? My gut feeling says we’re exclusive and given how smitten and possessive Blaine seems to be, I doubt he’ll be seeing anyone else.
“So now that you’re like a WAG or a HAB or whatever it is, you can hook me up with the cute goalie.” He rubs his chin as his head tilts to the side, drifting off into his thoughts. “I bet he can do the splits… I’ve never had sex with someone who can do the splits.”
I snort. “You’re impossible.”
“You love me.” He winks.
* * *
The mid-morning sun casts a warm glow through the full-length windows, gently waking me up as I try to stretch my aching body without waking Blaine, who’s snoring softly beside me. His thick arm lays heavy over my stomach, like a protective band restricting my movements.
I turn my head on the pillow to take him in. His full lips are slightly parted, his brown lashes fan across the top of his cheeks, his hair is a wild mess of curls against the crisp white pillowcase.
He’s beautiful.
Beautiful might be the wrong word for someone like Blaine, but he is. He’s beautiful in a rugged way.
Carefully lifting his arm so I don’t wake him, I slip out of bed, retrieving and putting on my discarded boxers in the process, before gently tiptoeing into the bathroom to do my business.
I take in my appearance in the mirror; a big purple love bite sits at the crook of my neck where it meets my shoulder, my skin flushed with a post-orgasmic glow.
I look happy.
I haven’t looked like this in a long time.
Blaine’s still fast asleep when I step out of the bathroom, his arm raised above his head on the pillow, showcasing his wide biceps and the hair of his armpits.
I just wanna go over and shove my face in them and inhale his delicious, manly scent.
The sheet rests just above his hips from where he’s rolled onto his back, displaying those magnificent abs.
His broad chest rises and falls lightly as he breathes.
He’s a sight to behold, and I have to physically pinch myself to remind myself this isn’t a dream.
I leave him to sleep for a little longer and head into the kitchen to make coffee and investigate the contents of his fridge. Eggs, bacon, mushrooms, tomatoes, Swiss cheese… An omelet is healthy for an athlete, right?
Finding a chopping board, I begin to prep the ingredients, stacking them neatly on a plate before working on whisking the eggs.
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
The gravelly voice makes me jump, causing the egg I was about to crack into a bowl to fly out of my hand and splat against the wall.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I apologize, quickly grabbing a wet cloth to wipe down the wall before turning back to Blaine. “You were exhausted and I didn’t want to wake you. I figured it’s not often you can get to sleep in during the season.”
His sleepy face fills with a soft smile, and he rubs his tired eyes with the heel of his palm as he pads toward me barefoot and naked as the day he was born.
I take in his god-like form. His long, thick cock is half hard, hanging heavy between his legs and slapping against his equally thick thighs as he walks closer to me.
“Good morning, gorgeous” He tilts my head up with two fingers beneath my chin and closes his mouth over mine.
A low moan escapes from deep in my chest as our tongues collide, wet and hot. I wrap my arms around his neck and hear the chopping board being pushed across the counter before he lifts me up to sit on the cool surface. He stands between my legs, his fingers digging into my ass.
“Mm, I love mornings with you,” he murmurs, nipping my bottom lip with his teeth.
He raises his head to reveal that delicious smirk across his lips as he taps my hips. “Lift.”
I place my hands on the countertop to push myself, and he pulls my boxers off, tossing them over his shoulder. He runs his warm hands up the front of my thighs, his thumbs getting dangerously close to my erection before moving back down to the inside of my knees. “You’re fucking sexy.”
I practically beam under his praise, feeling my cheeks heat.
He crouches down so he’s level with my crotch, his breath teasingly ghosting the head of my cock.
“Please,” I gasp between labored breaths.
Blaine licks a bead of precome from my tip, looking at me with hooded eyes, the corner of his lips tilting up. “Please, what?”
“Please suck me.”
“Mmm,” he hums, leaning in and lapping at my balls with his talented tongue before licking a strip from the base of my cock to the swollen head. “Seeing as you asked so nicely.”
Blaine lifts both of my legs to rest over his shoulders and brings my hips closer. A strangled moan escapes me when he takes me into his hot mouth, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks and takes me to the back of his throat.
“Holy fuck,” I grunt when he swallows around me.
My head falls back, hitting the cabinet doors behind me, fingers gripping onto the edge of the countertop so tightly that I’m sure my knuckles are turning white. The vibrations of his moans are making me lose my mind. He continues to bob his head, lavishing at my cock like he’s a starved man.
There’s no way I'm going to last much longer. Not with the way I keep hitting the back of his throat or how his fingers knead my heavy balls.
“Blaine!” I gasp.
Our eyes lock, and I trace my fingertips over his stretched lips, over his cheekbone, and push away the hair that’s fallen on his face.
My body begins to tremble from the pleasurable onslaught, my balls drawing up tight, and Blaine’s name echoes through the otherwise silent room on a moan.
My release hits the back of his throat, and he swallows every last drop.
“Mmm,” he murmurs, lazily licking the remnants of my come from the head of my cock. “My favorite kind of breakfast.”
When he stands to full height, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me close and holding me as I regain my composure.
“I wish I didn’t have to leave you,” he whispers. “I don’t wanna go to this team-building thing, and I don’t wanna go on the road. I wanna spend every minute of every day with you.”
I press kisses to his lips, letting him know without words that I feel the same, even though it terrifies me.